“What’s going on? You look terribly awful today.” Chaeyoung greets.

I let out a grunt, dissatisfied heave, instead of answering her. There’s not much time in the kitchen for some chit chat. She chuckles back at me as she rushes to serve the customers outside, full bowls in her tray.

She comes back, gesturing for additional side dish from me. “How’s your new place going? Is it comfortable?” She kindly asks.

I shrug.

“Come on, answer me. We’re not that busy. You’re not even focusing with your work. How much longer should I wait for you to chop these chilies, young lady?”

Oh dear, how can I forgot Chaeyoung can be extremely annoying at times.

“It’s fine. It’s all good. I don’t need to do any reparation.” I answer briskly as I place several side dishes in her tray. “Go off, woman. Quick.” I slap her back before going for the dishes now.

When she comes back in, she yells, “Invite me over sometimes!”

Yeah, well. Never.

Let me get this straight. Chaeyoung is definitely a nice person, annoying at times, generally a good person, she belongs in the Santa’s good list but I’m just not very outgoing. I don’t even know how I get to work in a restaurant but here I am. Thank goodness I was placed in the kitchen instead of having to take orders and serve the customers. I really am not good with talking to strangers. Instead, I might scare people off.

Anyway, the job at the book store I had last year needed me to talk least yet wasn’t very pleasant because I wasn’t heavily occupied with duties and I basically just have to stand and wait for the customers to come in and see if they want any assistant which for most of the time, nope. I got bored and pretty much delved myself into overthinking and later, depression.

I know, I know. There’s nothing to be depressed about.

I have shelter above my head, food on my table, distance family taking care of me, some money in the bank that my parents left for me and I can only take them when I’m eighteen – which to inform you all, yes I am not yet eighteen. Not until several months later. Which is fine because I have money of my own from working and my uncle, he provides me allowances. I haven’t used the money he gave for two years now. It’s all pack in the piggy bank I got from my twelve’s birthday. Jinhoo gave it.

I just felt undeserving, alright? And I can’t tell why. Because I don’t even know why.

When I trudge heavily into my house, the dust fly off like I have left it for weeks. I’m pretty sure the yesterday’s cleaning after moving was thorough but it seems like it’s not. I hung my jacket at the back of my bedroom’s door and lingers in my small living room, contemplating whether I should take a bath or lay back first.

“I’ll just go bath first…” I talk to myself.

It’s not very weird when I talk alone. I have pretty much develop this behaviour since I was a kid. When people ask whom do I talk to; my answer would always, “Ah, some imaginary friends.”

But I never have one. I can’t relate with friends’ stories when they told me games that they used to play with these people that only them can see.

“You could always take a rest, and sleep like a log, okay.”

I choke on my breath when I hear that voice. It’s a different ons but it’s somewhere from nowhere. I thought the scene from yesterday was a mere nightmare but it’s happening again. Not being as scared as I was, I turn around from the sink, shoving out the sponge I’m holding to scrub the cabinet in the kitchen towards the vacant air.

“Who is speaking?” I ask carefully. Maybe this is another hell ride of a nightmare again but I am wide awake.

“Me,” As if from the air, a guy appears, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, half-lid eyes. He has wide brilliant grin, messy brownish lock, and tall lean figure.

I’m out of breath, literally gaping like a fish as I find the strength to stand straight despites my weakening knees. Where are these guys come from? Why am I having another dream while being so awake?

“Hey, you gotta take a deep breath. I ask you to sleep, not die.” He steps closer and I don’t even budge from my place. I’m rooted in shock.

“W-who are you?” I whisper, almost crying. The wet sponge in my hand is totally not going to help to defense myself from this guy, so I’m betting with my cries, he would pardon me and let me live. Well, he did suggest me to stay alive.

“Alright, now lemme take that from you first.” He takes the sponge, toss it into the sink. He snatches a few layers of tissue from the cabinet and wipe my hand while I blankly allow him to do so. “Come here,” He escorts me out to the living room. “Have a seat first, will ya? I don’t want our new friend die when we don’t even get to know each other yet.”

I sit on the floor, barely leaning against the beanbag, trying to comprehend the situation. Or at least fall blackout and find myself awake the next morning. But nothing as such is happening, even after I forcefully shut my eyes, and that guy, he has walked into my bedroom to grab some pillows and throws them at me.

“What the hell…” I bite my lips, head starts to spin.

“I’m Mark, by the way.” He casually lays next to me, in the pile of pillows as he snatches the TV remote and switch it on. “I have resided here for many many years. I have lost count.”

“What?” I breathe. “You what?”

He looks at me. “Yea, this is my place.” A cough comes by, apparently not from him. And obviously, I don’t cough either. “Alright, it’s our place.”

“Our?”

“Yea, seven of us.” He settles at one entertainment show, happily drumming his stomach as he watches the TV. “Care to join us, gentlemen?” He speaks to the air and winks at me. “How about you lay down for a bit. The colour in your face is totally draining out.”

I inch further, muttering a slow, “I’m fine.”

He stays there, in silence, like I am no bother to him and otherwise.

“UMM-Mark?” I begin. He turns for a bit before returning back to watch the show. “What do you mean by residing here for many years? Am I intruding your place? The landlord didn’t say anything of it, though. Was I scammed by her?” I got panic thinking of that. I may be the one that is at fault and for him to still be fine about it is very nice actually.

He chuckles. “No I did not mean that way.”

I don’t understand. What does he mean by that? This is very confusing and to find myself sitting calmly next to a stranger is even more confusing but I need answer before I go crazy and call the police. “Then what? Who is the guy from yesterday? I did not dreaming of the yesterday’s incident, right?”

“Alright guys let’s not make her head even more twisted, shall we?” He declares, but it is very apparent that the words are not meant for me. He simply says that to himself.

I hear a grunt from the kitchen before a group of men – six in total – coming into the living room having different set of expression. There’s the guy from yesterday, and his eyes are piercing right to me, in a vengeful way. The rest are looking plain but their eyes speak another language that I can’t comprehend.

“Fuc–” I clamp my mouth, quickly standing up as they trudge closer. Mark juts his lips and does not even budge from his position. “WHO ARE ALL OF YOU?”

None answer. One let out a sigh, one smirk, the remaining…I couldn’t even bring myself to look at them one by one.

“You know what? I’m calling the police!” I threaten.

“By all means, do so.” One of them speaks. He doesn’t have big muscle too, one of them has a very apparent biceps, but one thing I’m sure, he looks snob. He has the attitude that I hate the most.

I’m quite hesitant when he says that way, but alas, I call the police. I have strange men flocking in my house like they own it when I have paid the deposit for six months. If anything, this kind of issue, the authority should be the one who can handle it.

They lay across the floor, chattering to themselves while waiting for the police. None of them gives a heed on me. Well maybe there is one of them who occasionally stares at me with those meaning eyes and flirty smirk.

I sit the farthest from them and quickly stand up when I hear knock on the door as the person behind it exclaim, “Police!”

I swing the door open, smiling in nervousness.

“You call?” One of the officers ask.

I hurriedly nod. “These men say they have been residing here for many years,” I gesture to the men scattering on the floor of my house. “But I assure you I have the official documents that stated that I have rented this house.

“Alright. Where are these men at now? Are they still pestering you?” He asks.

I frown. “What do you mean where? These are the guys.” I point at them. The guys look at me, unimpressed. They return back to their chatters as if nothing has happened.

I’m not the only one who is confused. Both of the officers have frown drawn on their forehead. “Maam, are they in your room?”

“They’re here!” I almost yell at them for not cooperating with me. How can they do not see these guys when there are so many of them and they are lay across the floor like lazy log.

“Maam, sorry. We do not see anyone here.” He talks to his partner in a softer tone while I have my time taking in the situation. “We will let you off from this prank call for this seem to be your first offence. But please, do not pull this kind of act anymore. We have other real emergencies and crime to cater.” He gives a brief nod before both of them walk away.

I’m left dumbfounded. If they can’t see these men, then who are they? More like, what are they? I can’t even bring myself to turn around to look at them back or shut the door. I think I’m going to faint.

Please, please. Brain, please shut down.

It’s blank yet again.